Death on a Silver Platter
by Stripe
Summary: Winry is a young doctor in internal medicine, and leads a great life with a nice apartment and loving boyfriend. However, when a seriously injured patient is wheeled into the hospital, this is all set to change... Edwin Almei Royai
1. August

Disclaimer  
I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or related characters. No suing, please.

**Death on a Silver Platter  
**Written by - Stripe

Chapter 1 - August

* * *

Everything was dark. He couldn't see. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even move.

He was going to die.

He had lost feeling in his hands and feet long ago -- his captors had no cares for his comfort. At the very least, he could no longer feel the rope biting into his skin. Blood flow to his hands and feet had been cut off long ago. He tried twitching a finger, but if it had worked, he certainly couldn't tell. He could barely turn his head to face his back -- where his hands were tied.

And even if he could, the blindfold obscuring his vision would surely do a good enough job of making sure he couldn't see anyway.

"Well, what do we have here?" came an all-too-familiar voice from in front of him. He was pretty sure it came from in front of him, at any rate. His sense of direction was too thrown off by the blindfold to be able to tell properly. It didn't matter anyway. "It seems like, despite our warnings, you forgot to follow our rules. You know what happens when you break the rules, right?" He didn't bother moving his head in any sort of response. Nothing would help now.

Suddenly, what felt like a large chunk of metal hit his face at full force. He tried not to show how much pain he was in, but he could feel the blood dripping down his face, and could tell that his nose had not taken kindly to the attack. It was probably broken, but he had no definite way of knowing, as with everything else happening around him.

"Answer me!" the voice demanded angrily. He forced himself through the pain and gave a feeble nod. Submitting was not something he wanted to do, but right now, it seemed the only option. They were going to punish him either way.

"Of course you do," the voice purred, deceptively sweet now. "You know the consequences. You know what needs to happen to your brother now. And you, Edward Elric... you, of course, can't be allowed to live."

* * *

"Code Blue! Code Blue!"

Winry's heart froze up as she heard the nurse shouting. Code Blue meant cardiac arrest, and she was the closest doctor to the room it had been called from. She had to go in and save the patient. She could make it to the room the quickest, so everything relied on her.

The thought would be exhilarating if another person's life didn't hang in the balance.

She would have liked to believe that when she sprinted to the patient's room, it would be shown in slow motion, much like the exciting doctors on TV. Her life was rarely like theirs; she mostly dealt with old people, bad cases of the sniffles, alcoholics, drug addicts, and the occasional car accident. There was nothing exciting like a mysterious, handsome young man who had full-blown amnesia -- oh no. The closest they got to amnesia were the old people who had forgotten themselves due to various mental conditions, and that was simply sad rather than dramatic.

However, Winry's fantasies of an exciting life as a doctor on a medical drama were short lived -- before she knew it, she was in the patient's room, surrounded by several nurses who were already preparing to reverse the condition according to hospital procedures. Winry took in the patient's appearance very quickly as her brain began to process what needed to be done. In her first year as a doctor, she would have freaked out in this situation, and an older doctor would have had to save her hide -- as well as the patient's life.

This was not the case anymore.

"He needs to be intubated," she said to no one in particular, though one of the nurses quickly handed the endotracheal tube to her before working on setting up the crash cart. Winry began the process of intubation without a second thought -- once again, something she would never have been able to do as quickly in her first year here. She slid the breathing tube down the trachea quickly and effectively and attached the tube to a mechanical ventilator. However, this only assured the patient's breathing would be unaffected. There was still the matter of the heart.

She turned to the nurses, who had prepared the defibrillator. Without a second thought, Winry grabbed the two paddles and set them on top of the patient's chest so that the heart would be in between. Winry let out a breath she was unaware she had been holding and then shouted, "CLEAR!"

A surge of electricity shot through the paddles and through the patient's heart, causing the heart monitor to blip for a second. However, the pulse didn't revert to normal. She needed to try again.

"CLEAR!" Once again, electricity raced through the patient's heart, and the monitor blipped again. This time, however, after the large blip from the electricity, the pulse returned to its normal pace. Winry and the nurses who helped her let out a sigh. They had all saved another life.

All in a day's work.

"Great job, everyone," she said with a weak smile -- she had yet to shake off all of the tension from before. A couple of the nurses rolled their eyes and walked out the door to attend to other patients, but for the most part they seemed rather appreciative of the fact that Winry was appreciative. Few doctors really took notice of the work the nurses did. They simply saw them as doing grunt work. However, Winry relied a good deal on them -- a couple of the nurses had saved her ass on more than one occasion when she had started working here. She was indebted to them.

She hung behind for a few minutes to calm her nerves a bit more. However, once all of the nurses had left, Winry was left to remember what exactly she had been doing before the code was called. She knew she had only been walking past the room in which the patient crashed -- it was a mere accident she had been there when she was.

But where had she been going?

Winry paused for a moment more before glancing at her wristwatch. It was 12:59 at the moment. It didn't take the blonde doctor long to figure out what she had been doing. At 1 on Wednesdays, she went down to the pediatric ward to read to the kids there. As this happened to be a Wednesday, it seemed pretty certain that had been what she was doing. Unfortunately, she now had less than a minute to make it there on time -- and the pediatric ward was two floors below her.

When Winry began to run this time, she didn't hope that it would seem to be in slow motion. In fact, if anything, she wished the non-existant TV scene could have been fast-forwarded. Doctor Fuery was a bit of a pushover, and last time she had been late for reading time, the poor guy had been forced to deal with a bunch of kids trying to attack him, demanding where she was. The sad thing was, they had been winning -- by sheer numbers if nothing else.

So, for the sake of her colleague, Winry felt it best to get downstairs as quickly as possible.

She didn't bother with the elevator. From her experience it was slow and often crowded if a patient needed to change floors. Wheel chairs, IV fluid bags, breathing apparatuses, and actual beds all fit into the elevator, but it wasn't a comfortable fit for the other elevator passengers. None of those people took the stairs -- in fact, almost nobody took the stairs.

This made them perfect when she was in a hurry. Most people completely ignored the fact that Winry was racing towards the stairwell. People ran through the halls all the time, even when no code had been called, though the Head of Hospital discouraged it immensely. But so long as people who ran were careful not to run into anything or anyone, no one entirely cared. Still, the hallway was like some sort of sick and twisted obstacle course. There was a body bag to the left, a couple of doctors talking to the right. Up ahead was a nurse wheeling an elderly patient down the hall, and just beyond them was a nervous family of a patient and the patient's doctor trying to console them. Finally, like the light at the end of the tunnel, there was the door leading to the stairwell.

Winry dodged these things expertly -- though she just narrowly avoided plowing through the worried family. Upon reaching the stairwell, she only took a second to catch her breath before running down the stairs, being very careful to watch out for anything slippery. Sometimes the patients who tried the stairs weren't feeling quite as well as they thought they were. Luckily, she saw no one else on the way down nor bodily fluids they might have left behind. She finally slowed down as she reached the ground floor. The pediatric ward was only a stone's throw away from the stairwell, so she was practically already there. What could it hurt to take another minute to catch her breath?

"Where's Dr. Rockbell? You said she'd read to us today!" came screaming from the other side of the door. Winry heard a somewhat muffled reply, which seemed to have come from Dr. Fuery, as well as a few other screamed complaints. She let out a sigh.

It seemed that the minute would be one minute too long.

Winry pushed the door to the hallway open slowly and found that half of the pediatric ward had spilled over into the hall, with the other half standing by the door leading into the recreation room. Everyone turned to face her almost simultaneously.

"Oh thank God," Dr. Fuery said, looking beyond relieved. The children seemed to react similarly to their doctor, only they did so with more gusto.

"Doctor Rockbell! Doctor Rockbell! What story are you gonna read to us today?"

"I liked the Little Mermaid story you read us last time. I wanna be a mermaid! Does this story have a mermaid? It should have mermaids!"

"No way. Mermaids are sooo lame. This story should have a great, macho knight fighting off a dragon with a sword! Those stories are always the best!"

"I don't care what it's about, as long as you tell it, Doctor Rockbell."

Winry chuckled as the children bombarded her with various story requests. She didn't pay much mind to them at the moment -- they had a habit of changing their minds about what they wanted halfway through the story. She only needed a basic starting point, and they usually told the story from there. "Alright, alright. But first, let's stop bothering Dr. Fuery and go back into the recreation room, why don't we? It isn't nice to bully him like that," she said, a bit of laughter twinkling behind her eyes. The kids all groaned and complained but slowly began filing into the room they should have been in. Dr. Fuery sighed.

"You know, I love kids, but so many of them is just ... overpowering. I think I might have been better as a lab technician instead," he said, adjusting his glasses back into a more comfortable position on his nose. Winry gave a small laugh without meaning to.

"I wouldn't stress about it," she told him, grinning slightly. "You're one of our best pediatricians. The kids love you in their own special way, I'm sure."

"They just like you more," Dr. Fuery said blandly in response. Winry laughed once again. She couldn't deny it -- ever since bonding with Nina her second year here, she had been a favorite of the pediatric ward. Unfortunately, Nina was still here and still sick. Other kids had come and gone throughout the past two years of Winry reading in pediatrics, but Nina still seemed to be stuck at the hospital, struggling with her disease. She had gone home a couple of times, only to continue to deteriorate or develop a new complication. Winry's mood fell a little bit upon bringing this information up in her mind, but her smile didn't falter as she walked into the room and was greeted by numerous children, Nina included.

Nina was still alive. There was still hope.

Winry sat down in a chair that would have been comfortable had she been about two feet shorter (unfortunately, to read to the kids, she also had to use their furniture). She had grown accustomed to sitting with her knees practically in her face, but she also had a sinking feeling that this would lead to early back problems. The kids all sat around her surprisingly calm given their previous behavior. There were a few nudges and pushes in order to get to sit in the front, but for the most part, they didn't fight amongst themselves. The kids who were the most energetic tended to sit towards the front, while the weaker of them didn't try to contest for the prime positions. It was an excellent way to determine how a child was feeling that day, as morbid as the thought may be.

Even kids could muster up surprising strength in the face of illness.

She looked at them for a moment longer, taking a few mental notes on their conditions, before a little girl -- who was leaving later today, if Winry recalled correctly -- decided to pipe up.

"So what story are we gonna hear today, Dr. Rockbell?" she asked, a cute grin crossing her face. Winry pondered this for a moment and finally chose the fairy tale she wanted.

"How about we tell the tale of Sleeping Beauty?" she asked the children, some of whom seemed vaguely interested, the rest looking excited. She noticed a significant correlation in gender between these reactions -- it seemed that the boys weren't big fans of Disney princesses. However, there were no outright objections, so she decided to continue.

"Well, this story starts long ago in a far off land, with a beautiful princess…"

"Aw, man! Does it have to be a princess? They're always the main characters!" an older boy in the back complained. "Why can't it be a prince? Who fights dragons? That's sooo much cooler."

"Oh, ewww! You can't make Sleeping Beauty a _guy!_" the girl sitting in front of him complained. She was a cancer patient, and had a rag wrapped around her head in order to cover up the hair she'd lost from chemo. However, her illness did not stop her from being very insistent that things work her way. "That sooo ruins the story!" Winry smiled slightly, considering the swap in gender for a moment.

"Well, I've never told it with a guy as Sleeping Beauty before," Winry said truthfully. "I think it would be fun to try." The boy seemed excited, and the girl looked to be contemplating holding a tantrum. However, Winry decided to move on with the story before she could carry out that idea.

"Alright. So, once, very long ago in a far-off land, there lived a _very_ handsome prince named ..." Winry paused for a moment in order to think of a princely sounding guy's name … "named Edward. Prince Edward. Anyways, when he was born, three good fairies blessed him..."

Winry continued with the story as best she could with the rather major difference that Sleeping Beauty was, in fact, Sleeping Handsome. She described how Edward had been cursed by a horrible witch so that, on his 18th birthday, he would be doomed to fall into a deep sleep, only to be awoken by the hug -- it seemed that kids still thought of kissing as gross -- of his true love. His parents sent him to live with the three good fairies who had given him such gifts in the first place, though "fairies" became a very loose term, as one became a good dragon, the other a mermaid, and the final a golden retriever. They tried to protect him from the witch's curse, but on his 18th birthday, the very thing that had been prophesized occurred. And once this occured, a good princess decided to rescue him...

And this was where the story became slightly more interesting.

"Dr. Rockbell! You should be the princess! You'd make a really pretty princess!"

That had been Nina's idea, and every other kid sitting there had happily agreed with the plan with varying levels of agreement.

Hence, Winry had to describe a goodly princess-doctor going to save the handsome prince Edward. She described herself going through the garden of thorns -- only there had also been roses thrown in to appease a few of the younger girls. She had also bravely faced the dragon, whom she hadn't vanquished, much to the older boys' dismay. Instead, she had shown the dragon the error of her ways, and the newly reformed dragon had flown off to the mountaintops to meet other dragons. Then, finally, she had arrived at the place in which the handsome prince Edward was sleeping, and given him the "hug of true love" and revived him.

And then they lived happily ever after.

Most of the kids seemed appeased by this tale, though there were two girls who were still unhappy with the fact that Sleeping Beauty was a guy. Once the kids were escorted off by their parents or respective doctor, Winry decided it was time to leave herself. When she finally detached herself from the chair she had been sitting in, she found there was somebody already waiting at the door.

"That was a wonderful story, Winry," a dark-haired young woman said with a mischievous grin. "I especially liked the three fairies. Very clever. Oh, and using yourself as the princess? I'm sure Alfons would love to hear about this 'Edward' guy." Winry elbowed her friend playfully.

"Come on, Mei. You let the kids hear what they want to hear. They're sick -- it would be mean to argue with them. Besides, we all know that you wish you had your own Prince Edward as well," she countered. Mei let out a dreamy sigh -- Winry honestly couldn't tell if she was joking.

"One day I'll meet him ... My dream prince is out there somewhere ..." Mei replied, looking happily off into space. Winry decided not to interrupt her friend's delusion of a prince in shining armor coming to save her on a white stallion. It was well-known that Mei was a hopeless romantic, even though her luck with men had been very minimal thus far. For now, it seemed all she could do was dream.

However, as the two made their way into the entrance of the hospital, it seemed that Mei would have to cut her daydreamintg short. Several orderlies burst in, wheeling a gurney with what seemed to be a severely injured man resting on it. Mei snapped out of her daydream and into nurse-mode, following the orderlies pushing the bed. It wasn't certain she would be needed, but so long as she stayed out of the way, it was generally better to have the extra hands available -- just in case. Winry worked in internal medicine, so for the time being there wasn't much she could do to help.

Still, as she caught a glimpse of his bloody face, Winry felt that this would not be the last time she would see this man.

* * *

A/N:

Hello and welcome to my new Edwin fanfic! This is being done for a contest, actually. The contest is to write one chapter of a fanfic per month, given a specific list of words and phrases. The fics will then all be judged at the end, and the best wins some forum prizes... sorta. Nothing big.

But I entered 'cause it sounded fun.

This does mean that it will take about a month for another update, though. But at least the updates won't be as sporadic as they might be otherwise.

Here's the first chapter. The fic will be written in real time to an extent - right now, in the fic, it's late August, 2008. Next chapter will take place in September, the chapter after that, October, etc. This may change if the plot calls for it, but for the time being, that's the plan. And that's all I'll say for now.

Thanks to San, Kira, Kiza, and my mommy for pre-reading this for me. x3

Enjoy!


	2. September

Disclaimer  
I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or related characters. No suing, please.

**Death on a Silver Platter  
**Written by - Stripe

Chapter 2 - September

* * *

"I've torn the place apart for my good luck charm, but I still can't find it!" Mei declared, throwing her hands up into the air in frustration. "How can I be expected to work under these conditions?"

Winry raised an eyebrow as her friend continued to shift through the nurse's station, searching in vain for her supposed "good luck charm." A quick glance to her watch told the doctor that she only had about five minutes before she was on call - and she was wasting those last five minutes of general freedom on this?

"Do you really need your good luck charm?" Winry asked the frantic nurse, who very nearly knocked over a poorly-placed urine sample cup. Mei paused and looked up at her with what seemed to be tears at the corner of her eyes.

"Yes!" she declared, actually sounding upset. "Xiao Mei helped me through all of my toughest patients! I _need _her." Winry paused for a moment, her mind taking a while to connect "Xiao Mei" to "good luck charm," and then further tieing it in "Xiao Mei" to Mei's favorite little toy.

"Your good luck charm is that stupid little rubber ducky you have?" she asked in a minor state of disbelief. It shouldn't have surprised her, but Mei never ceased to amaze her with her utter child-like innocence.

"She's not stupid!" Mei insisted. "She helps keep me calm and mature while at work!"

"Yes, playing with rubber duckies is _**so**_ mature."

The dark-haired nurse simply stuck out her tongue, and continued to look through the nurse's station for her misplaced rubber ducky. Winry sighed and glanced at the clock again. Three minutes.

"Why do you need that ducky now anyways? You don't carry it with you everywhere, and don't even try to convince me that you do. What's so special about right now?" she asked, finally determining that she wouldn't be able to do much else productive within the three minutes she had left anyway.

"Well," Mei started, checking under a single sheet of paper, as if the duck had flattened itself to be paper thin. No such luck. "You know that one guy they wheeled in with those bad injuries about four days ago? On the 31st?" Winry thought about it for a moment, then finally nodded. "He hasn't been doing so well. His wounds are healing alright, but he's still in a lot of pain, and he's got a persistent fever. I figure he needs all the luck he can get." Quite suddenly, Winry shifted from teasing friend mode to professional doctor mode. Fevers with intense injuries weren't uncommon, necessarily, but they weren't good signs. Especially not when they lasted this long.

"Did all of the wounds get sewn up correctly? Is there any chance of infection? Why is he still in so much pain? Do they have him on the right dosage of morphine?" She rattled the questions off at the top of her head, trying to solve the problem without even seeing the patient. Mei blocked out what Winry said. It wasn't because she didn't care or because she didn't understand what the doctor was saying - more that something else had caught her attention. She glanced past Winry's shoulder.

There were a few orderlies pushing a gurney with a now-familiar blonde on it. She stepped out from behind the nursing station and stood next to Winry, who they were heading towards. Winry's head turned as well, and she looked at them curiously. Speak of the devil and he will come, as they say.

"What's this patient doing here?" she asked in an authorative tone.

"We're transferring this patient out of the ICU," one of the orderlies explained simply. "His condition is almost stable, but we need him to be seen by the doctor on call. There's a few other circumstances..." Winry glanced to the clock. It seemed her three minutes had just passed.

"Hand me his file."

* * *

Winry yawned as she stumbled into her apartment, exhausted. It had been another long night. She hated getting the midnight shift at work. Recently, she'd been able to avoid it, but enough conflicting schedules at once left her on call from 12 o' clock to 10 o' clock in the morning with only about two fifteen minute breaks with which to sustain herself. She'd caught an hour of sleep on the cots in the on call room, but she'd finally been kicked out by two particular doctors who seemingly didn't like abiding by the "no sexual intercourse at work" rule.

As she set her bag down on the counter, she contemplated for a moment whether she really cared to go the distance required to reach her bed. Her room was on the other side of the apartment. Given, her apartment was not the largest place in the world, but she still didn't feel like mustering up the energy.

So instead, she collapsed onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as her body hit the soft cushions. She let her mind drift off for a few moments, and it seemed she would finally get to catch the winks of sleep she had been missing out on when the door opened, signaling the return of Alfons.

"Hey, Winry. What do you want to want to do for lun..." she cracked open an eye to see her boyfriend eyeing her from across the living room with a curious expression. For a moment, he seemed concerned, until it hit him. "Oh, right," he said, lowering his voice a bit. "I forgot you had the midnight shift. I'll just make my own lunch, then. Is there anything you want?"

"Chicken biscuits are good," Winry suggested with a tired groan, watching him cross the living room to the kitchen. She noted as he paused to set a tennis racket by the entrance. That wasn't a surprise. He liked to play his friends at tennis on Saturdays with varying levels of success each week. She considered asking him whether he'd managed to beat Alphonse Elric this time, but couldn't muster up the strength to do so. She was too tired to care, quite frankly.

"Chicken biscuits?" Alfons questioned as he pulled a mixing bowl out from the kitchen. "I didn't even know you liked chicken biscuits."

"Pediatrics got a chicken biscuit breakfast day today. When you see a toddler get a better breakfast than you do, you begin to crave whatever they're eating," she explained, closing her eyes for a moment. She doubted that she'd be able to actually fall asleep while Alfons was making himself something in the kitchen - she didn't sleep well with noise. But at least she would be able to let her eyes rest...

"Well, I think we're running a bit low on chicken biscuit makings at the moment. Want anything else?" he asked. She could hear him rifling through the fridge, likely trying to make whatever he was planning on eating himself.

"What _do_ we having makings of?" she asked, mind beginning to drift off.

"Let's see... we still have some left over pasta, a couple of lunchables..." Winry listened as her boyfriend continued to list off a series of items - string cheese, spread cheese, margarine, cookie cake. She had stopped listening to him, however. She wasn't particularly hungry - even if chicken biscuits did sound pretty good. In a way, she almost envied their mystery patient. He still hadn't been able to maintain consciousness for more than a few seconds - they still didn't know anything about his medical history.

This was problematic for her, of course, because she didn't know of any potential allergies to medication. This was part of the reason she was so exhausted - she'd needed to eye his reactions to various treatments closely. It was horribly draining for her.

But she figured that he was at least getting a decent night's rest out of the deal...

"Winry?" Alfons asked, taking a peek back into the living room when she didn't respond to his list of food items. She was still lying on the couch with her eyes closed. He smiled slightly, but he couldn't help but be worried. Falling asleep was a logical reaction to working the graveyard shift.

But sometimes, he simply wished she wouldn't work herself so hard.

* * *

The next morning, Winry came into work cheerful and well-refreshed. This was partly because she had slept for about 14 hours the night before, and partly because Alfons had bought her a wonderful new face wash for her birthday. It managed to wake her up gently, and thus put her in an excellent mood. For some reason, she was simply optimistic that today was going to be a wonderful day.

Mei, on the other hand, had already had her day ruined.

As usual, the two friends met in the main lobby of the hospital. Mei was already half-way through her shift, but she still took a quick break to come and greet Winry at the door. Simultaneously, the two began to speak.

"Good Morning, Mei."

"Winry, it's horrible!"

The two stared at each other for a moment, not sure of how to respond. Finally, Winry gave in, worried about whatever Mei could possibly be talking about. "What's horrible?"

"The son of that guy who donated the Elric wing! He's coming to visit!" Mei declared, looking worried. The blonde doctor stared at her friend for a moment before finally bursting out laughing. Mei pouted. "What? You know how those stuffy investor-types are!"

"Care to elaborate?" Winry asked, failing to fully contain the humor she saw in this dilemma of Mei's.

"Well, they come to 'visit' the hospital. And they view us all like... like... pieces of meat! Or the appendix! Or the tonsils! He'll try and find the weakest link in the hospital and then get them fired because he feels like it and he has money. And he'll probably try to hit on the nurses too. This is horrible!" Mei declared, visibly worried. Winry pondered over this mental image of Mei's for a moment.

"You're scared that Alphonse Elric is going to hit on you?" she repeated. The nurse nodded rapidly. Winry pondered this thought for a moment longer. This just seemed too easy. "Well, you should be," she assured her friend. "He's a scum bag. All the money and power has corrupted him. I'd stay as far away from him as possible." Mei looked slightly horrified, but also somewhat pleased to know that her disgust was well-founded.

These traits were, of course, about as far from the true personality of Alphonse Elric as one could get. But Al deserved it for that prank he'd played on Winry last time he'd visited.

Mei was about to walk off to gossip to the other nurses about the horrible man that was about to visit their hospital, but she stopped herself.

"By the way, Mystery Man's woken up. I think there's somebody in there getting his information now," she said quickly before returning to her previous objective. Winry wasted no time in going up the stairs that lead to the second floor, where his room was. Usually, she wasn't so excited over a single patient, but this was Mystery Man. No one had known his name, where he came from, or why he had sustained such massive injuries. She happened to have a natural curiosity.

She had to know.

Sure enough, when Winry reached the room, there was already a nurse asking the typical patient history questions. She paused for a moment, considering whether she really wanted to go through the boring questions just to learn something about him. Plus, it _would_ be rude to interrupt the nurse... But curiosity got the better of her.

"Nurse Thomas," Winry said with a kind smile, walking in. "I can take the questions from here." The dark-haired nurse glanced up to Winry for a moment, and for a moment, she thought she saw some form of jealousy. However, she smiled after that and handed Winry the file.

"I didn't get very far," Nurse Thomas said as she walked out. "Only to question 6." Winry nodded, and glanced through what had already been written down.

"So," she started, pulling up a chair as she walked to the patients bed. She knew patient histories could take a while. "Mr... Eaton, is it?" she glanced up at him, finally getting a good view of his face. Staring back at her was a pair of beautiful golden eyes - she'd only ever seen them on one other person before. It was all she could do from blurting out and complimenting him - that wasn't advisable with male patients when it came from a female doctor. They'd all gone through a long, detailed seminar on patient-doctor relationships - namely, do not sleep with the patients.

Not that there was a direct correlation between complimenting eye color and romantic relationships, but it was best to take precautions.

She was so wrapped up in this train of thought, that she almost missed his nod in response to her question.

"Just call me Ed, though," he said giving her a somewhat distrustful look. "Who are you anyways?" Winry blinked, as if surprised. She hadn't exactly introduced herself, but she still felt it should be obvious.

"I'm Dr. Rockbell," she said finally. "I've been taking care of you while you've been unconscious. You've sustained massive injuries-"

"Yeah, yeah. The nurse already told me that. Serious injuries, mysterious fever. Probably will have issues walking for a few days after I'm let out of bed. May have sustained brain damage, though it's too early to tell. That really made my day," he said with a sour expression. It was all too clear that he was unhappy with his current situation.

"Well, we'll do our best to be sure that you get out of here-"

"So you're my doctor, right?" Ed interrupted Winry very quickly, not caring about what she may have had to say. "And not some incompetent nurse? I think one of them put in my IV wrong."

"Yes, I'm your doctor," Winry stated blandly, beginning to become annoyed with him. She was trying to push off his bad behavior on the morphine, but she was starting to wish he had simply stayed unconscious. "And _I _put in your IV." Ed looked at the IV for a moment, contemplating something.

"Can I request a change in doctor, then?" he asked.

"No. And I put your IV in right, so it wouldn't do you much good anyways. Now, I need to finish this questionnaire. Question 7..."

* * *

Some mornings when Winry went in, it seemed that nothing good had happened while she was gone. Mei was usually the one to fill her in, since she preferred the early morning shifts. When they met each other in the morning, she knew when it was coming. It was The Look. That tireder-than-usual, dead look in Mei's eyes that indicated it had been a rough shift so far. Winry took in a deep breath of air when she saw it on the morning of the 28th. She knew she'd need to brace herself.

Good news was not coming.

"Mrs. Miller passed away last night," Mei started, her tone heavy. Winry nodded - Mrs. Miller was old. They all knew she wasn't going out of the hospital alive. The family had been well informed already, and they didn't anticipate any lawsuits. It was a shame to see the woman go, but what was done was done.

However, Mei continued.

"Also, Mr. Miles went into cardiac arrest. We managed to stabilize him, but he's still not out of the woods yet. Mr. Eaton's fever also spiked over night. He's still conscious, but we can't break the fever, and it's still climbing. Also..." and here, Mei paused. Winry knew that she had saved the worst news for last. "Nina's disease took a sudden turn for the worse. She's unresponsive."

Winry let out a deep sigh and brushed her bangs back, trying to sort through these things in her head. Nina's issue was the most concerning to her, but that didn't make it the most urgent. Comas were a horrible thing, but they were slow, and with the girl's disease, Winry wasn't sure she had much she could do to help the situation. The case with Mr. Miles was also alarming, but he was suffering from an infection which attacked the heart. She was sure he had already been perscribed more antibiotics, and that the nurses would keep him alive. Mrs. Miller was no longer a concern.

This left Mr. Eaton. A rising fever needed to be stopped as soon as possible, especially considering he was still recovering from injuries.

Mind clear, Winry set off for the blonde man's room, all the while trying to think of reason's why his fever would linger, and actually get worse. The obvious reason would be infection, perhaps something he picked up at the hospital. With the bad wounds he had coming in, it wouldn't be a surprise. But the fact that it was hitting him now was somewhat troubling. It had been nearly a month since he'd been brought in. His wounds were beginning to heal; he was conscious. What reason did the fever have to suddenly spike?

"Am I going to die?" Winry snapped out of her diagnostic thoughts as she realized she was already in Mr. Eaton's room. She tried to remember how long she had been standing there, pondering his condition, but she couldn't remember her actual journey to the room. She had been here too long - getting to patient rooms was an automatic process for her anymore. Mr. Eaton stared at her for a moment before repeating the question.

"Am I going to die?"

Winry found the way he asked the question curious. He didn't ask it with any hint of worry, like many people did when in a hospital. He didn't even seem to be asking it in hope of relief from his pain. He was simply asking it for the knowledge. She opened her mouth, but no good words came to mind for a response. He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Nevermind," he muttered. Winry continued to try thinking of an answer for a moment, but she quickly determined it didn't matter. She couldn't exactly be wasting much time, here.

"I'm going to put you on a broad-spectrum antibiotic," she stated simply. "In my opinion, the fever is likely caused by an infection you picked up at the hospital - the antibiotic should eliminate most of the possible suspects." Her gave her a dead expression.

"Most?" he repeated, unimpressed.

"Well, we don't know for sure what you've got yet. I'm going to take some blood to test it for some more common bacteria - once we know what it is, we can treat it more effectively. Now, hold out your right arm, please," she stated simply, pulling out an empty needle. The blood sample would hopefully also allow them to check for fever-causing-circumstances outside of infection, but it was best not to tell him that. Mr. Eaton didn't trust her enough as it was - she might as well seem at least somewhat certain of a diagnosis. He looked at the needle, and then down at his outstretched right arm.

"Must you insist upon putting that there?" he asked, looking almost disgusted. Winry raised an eyebrow.

"Scared of needles?" she asked, beginning to feel the inside of his arm for a vein. He continued to stare at her with the piercing gold eyes.

"I'm not _scared_ of them," he clarified. "I just don't find the idea of a small piece of metal in my arm extracting my blood a very appealing one." Winry shrugged, continuing to look for a strong enough pulse. Technically, she didn't have to take the blood herself - the nurses would do it for her - but she was also looking for other symptoms which might give her an

idea of where to start seeking out the exact diagnosis. Finally, she found the strongest pulse in his right arm, and eased the needle in as gently as possible.

"That didn't hurt too much, did it?" she asked as she began to draw blood. He gave her a strange look.

"What didn't hurt?" he asked. Though she was focusing on the blood filling the needle, she could feel his gaze piercing the top of her head. She glanced up.

"The needle? You didn't feel it?" she asked tearing her attention away from the needle for a moment to face him. She supposed it could have been the morphine, but this was still a bit strange. He shook his head and glanced down. He jumped slightly, but luckily didn't dislodge the needle.

"What...? When did you... I didn't even feel..." he began muttering, and shook his head. Winry glanced down and saw the needle was full. She slid it out, then glanced up to him. Judging by his reaction, he hadn't felt that either. She carefully set a gloved hand on his forearm, watching for his reaction. His frown deepened, and he reached up with his left arm and felt along his right shoulder, somewhat frantic.

"I can't feel anything along my entire right arm..." he growled, looking troubled. Winry bit her lip. This couldn't be good.

But at least she had another symptom to go off of.

* * *

A/N:

I cut this one a bit too close... This is still basically the rough draft - I couldn't find anyone to do a thorough editing job in, like, three days, so I said "I'll go ahead and post it." So here we are!

I don't like this chapter nearly as much as the first. But it at least introduces us to a few more characters, and sets us up for the next chapter. Also, the scene in there with Alfons only exists because of the word list, really. This month, the challenge said to include these phrases into the story somehow:

**1. **Tennis racket  
**2.** Mixing bowl  
**3.** Spread cheese  
**4.** Face wash  
**5. **Toddler  
**6.** _"Chicken biscuits are good."  
**7.** "Must you insist upon putting that there?"  
**8.** "That really made my day."  
**9.** "I've torn the place apart for my (blank), but I still can't find it!"  
**10. **"Yes, playing with rubber duckies is **so** mature." _

Can you find them?

Also, I apologize for mistakes in medical terminology and what-not. I'm getting most of this stuff from House and Scrubs - I do not cliam to be an expert in the medical field. So forgive me!

Well, until next month...

Enjoy!


	3. October

Disclaimer  
I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or related characters. No suing, please.

**Death on a Silver Platter  
**Written by - Stripe

Chapter 3 - October

* * *

It was another late night. She was flipping uselessly through another medical textbook. She was reading about another infectious disease. It was another set of symptoms which did not match that of Mr. Eaton's.

She was at another dead end.

Winry pushed back her bangs and let out a frustrated sigh. This wasn't working. At this rate, he was going to die, and she wouldn't know until the autopsy what had killed him. Nothing was going well -- not only with Mr. Eaton, but with Nina and Mr. Miles as well. Moreover, a new patient -- Ms. Crowley -- was also doing badly. Winry felt as if she were drowning and couldn't break through to the surface.

This was her first day out of medical school all over again. The only difference was that by now, she should have been able to handle this. She had more years of experience backing her up.

Winry let her head fall to the table, now lying face-first in an open textbook.

Alfons walked into the living room, a worried expression crossing his face. Winry was sitting at the kitchen table with medical textbooks and poorly written notes on separate sheets of paper scattered around her. There was a single lamp lit to guide her reading, though she wasn't actually reading one of the books at the moment. Instead, she simply had her head resting on the table, turned away from him. Slowly, he walked up.

"Winry?" he prodded gently, testing to see if she was awake. "Do you want to go to bed? There's a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers waiting for you." She rolled her head over in over to face him, but did not straighten up. Her eyes were red, but he couldn't tell whether it was because she had been crying, or was simply attributed to the strain of reading in dim light. She didn't say a word. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, eyes softening.

"Winry, what's wrong?"

"My patients are all going to die," she muttered. "And I can't even figure out _why_." Alfons opened his mouth to try and comfort her, but she continued talking. "I got too complacent. I was doing so well, and now there are some people who really need my help, I can't do anything. I put myself in a sticky situation and can't get out! They're all going to die because they were unlucky enough to get such an incompetent doctor!"

"This isn't your fault," Alfons stated firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You are not an incompetent doctor. You've saved more than your fair share of patients before. There will always be a few patients who can't be saved, but you can't blame yourself for that." Carefully, he began to slide the book out from under her head. "Now, you need to get some rest or you won't be able to save anyone." She nodded and picked her head up, casting one last glance back to the book before he closed it.

Something caught her eye.

"Hold it," she said, suddenly alert. She grabbed the textbook from Alfons and quickly began scanning the page. "Wilson's petritus," she read aloud, brows furrowed, "is a potentially fatal disease if left untreated. It first presents with a fever, and later presents with paralysis of limbs, which progresses onto the internal organs if not treated quickly. The bacterium eat at the nerve endings of the muscle and bone... This is it! This is what Mr. Eaton has, I know it!"

"That's great!" Alfons said with a smile, really more happy about seeing Winry regain some of her vibrancy than hearing that she had finally made the correct diagnosis. "So you can treat him?"

"Yeah, it says here that the patient should be administered a specialized antibiotic and that the infected areas..." Suddenly, Winry's enthusiasm faded.

Oh no.

* * *

"...I'm really sorry, but it's the only option, Mr. Eaton."

Edward stared at the hospital bracelet adorning his wrist, trying to get his mind off of what Dr. Rockbell has just told him. He still couldn't get used to this pseudonym - Edwin Eaton. It was almost as if the entire ordeal was happening to another person entirely. But that's what he was hoping for, right? If he didn't use his real name, he couldn't be tracked by hospital documents...

"Mr. Eaton? Did you hear me?" the blonde doctor asked, sounding concerned. He glanced up. He'd heard her, of course. He couldn't easily pretend he hadn't.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking down at his useless right arm.

"Then could you please sign this consent form?" she asked, handing him a clipboard with some formal-looking document attached to it. Ed glanced over it briefly. It had some sort of legal dribble he didn't understand at the top, and at the bottom was a "sign here" blank. He looked up at Dr. Rockbell, eyebrow raised.

"I'm right-handed," Ed stated blandly. She sighed.

"You're going to have to learn to write with your left at some point," Dr. Rockbell replied, her expression a mix of pity, exhaustion, and annoyance. He noticed she had considerable bags under her eyes -- last night hadn't been a good one for her. He wondered whether he should request a change of doctors or simply give her the benefit of the doubt. He shook his head and picked up his left hand, scrawling an illegible signature at the bottom of the page. She nodded, and grabbed the clipboard from him.

"I've set the date for your amputation to be on the 11th -- just a few days from now. The infection shouldn't affect any more of your system in the mean time, and the nerves in your arm and leg are dead, so you shouldn't be in much pain," she explained as she was heading out the door. Ed blinked.

"Wait, _much_ pain?" he asked, hoping for clarification. However, by the time the words had escaped his mouth, she was already gone.

* * *

Mei looked at the large calendar stationed behind the nurse's station, eyeing the day's date suspiciously. October 11th. In the little box, somebody had written "Mr. Elric visits 10:00!" in happy, bubbly handwriting. The other nurses obviously didn't know what was about to befall their beloved hospital.

Inspection Day.

Mei quickly glanced up to the clock, hoping to see how long she had to prepare. It was 9:54 -- 6 minutes until the demon arrived. She eyed the ward suspiciously. She had finished her rounds already, so she had some free time. She could easily go down to the main lobby to fully prepare herself for what was about to arrive at the hospital. She bit her lip.

She had to do it. For the hospital.

With a determined expression set, she marched downstairs to the lobby, taking a defensive stance in front of the double doors leading into the hospital. She eyed the people coming in with a critical eye. She knew the type of person she was looking for: a man in his mid-thirties at the youngest. Horrible expression. Bad aura around him. A pitchfork and horns.

She kept her eyes peeled, carefully examining every unfortunate soul who entered. An overweight woman -- obviously not him. A young couple, the girl pregnant -- No, no. Too happy. A handsome young man with blonde hair -- no, much too young. Too handsome, too. An old man feebly limping in on a cane -- rather pathetic, but Mei couldn't let her guard down. The old man could more than easily be--

"Excuse me, but could you help me? I'm looking for somebody."

A voice snapped Mei out of her intent search mission. Turning quickly, she soon discovered the voice belonged to the handsome blonde man she had dismissed earlier. For a moment, she considered ignoring him in favor of her search, but a nagging voice reminded her that she remained woefully single. Immediately, she went from intent, determined huntress mode to young, adorable, helpful nurse mode.

"I'd be glad to help," she offered with what she hoped was an adorable smile. "Who are you looking for?"

"A doctor here - Winry Rockbell. Do you know her?" the young man asked. Mei's grin only faltered for a moment. However, she quickly herself that Winry was already happily taken, and that this man wouldn't have a chance with her, even if he wanted it.

"Yes, I know her. Would you like me to page her?" the young nurse asked, confident that within a few more kind, caring smiles, she'd have him.

"That would be helpful. Tell her that Alphonse Elric is waiting for her in the lobby."

The difference in Mei's demeanor was comparable to that of a pleasant, summer's evening and a category 5 hurricane raging through the coastal cities of Texas.

"Alphonse Elric?" she repeated, eyebrow twitching. "As in Alphonse Elric, the heir of the Elric fortune who practically owns half of the city?" The young man seemed startled by this sudden change, but did his best to answer anyways.

"Uhm, yes, I'm that Alphonse Elric. But I really don't own any of the city, let alone half..." he explained in a futile attempt to regain her affections again.

"Could you move away a little bit? Just a little bit? Perfect. Thanks." Mei said this with an ice-like expression, making the multi-millionaire back up several steps. He nearly backed into an elderly man in a wheelchair, but this didn't seem to matter to the nurse.

"Uhm, why did I have to back up?" he asked nervously, trying to figure out what he had done to this girl to make her so cold towards him. He had never seen her in his life - what could he have possibly done to offend her?

"Because I would file a sexual harassment charge against you if you didn't, you scumbag," Mei spat out, repeating the words that Winry had used herself to describe the man. How could she let herself be fooled by his boyish charm? It was now very clear that he was only here to ruin the hospital. Mei mentally chided herself for letting her guard down for a pretty face. It would not happen again.

"I'm not a scumbag. I donate most of my money to charities," Alphonse offered up uselessly, though he was rather certain it wouldn't help his case. She was already dead set on hating him, it seemed.

"And I'm a hula dancer, now what do you have to say?" she countered, placing her hands on her hips. He frowned, trying to make sense of what she had just said.

"That doesn't have anything to do with me being a scumbag..." he muttered, having just about given up on trying to appeal to the dark-haired nurse.

"So's your face."

Alphonse opened his mouth, trying to think of a response, but it was obvious now that anything he said could and would be used against him, however poorly. No words came to mind, so instead of countering somewhat intelligently, he simply stood there with his mouth agape.

"Alphonse! I wasn't expecting to see you here so soon!"

Saved by the bell.

Al looked past the vindictive nurse to see Winry Rockbell -- one of his oldest friends -- walking towards him. She was dressed in her professional, white coat, stethoscope draped about her neck. He could still remember when they were still in high school together, when she wore torn jeans and oil-stained T-shirts to school, her hair usually tied back into a messy ponytail. Seeing her in a professional setting was almost strange and out of place. This might have been a slightly hypocritical thinking; anymore, his wardrobe consisted of purely business attire. He was only wearing a more casual outfit today -- a button-down shirt -- because Winry had warned him that if he _really_ wanted to visit the sick patients, he'd have to be prepared for what came out of the sick patients to stain his clothing.

Not that he was worried about not being able to replace the clothes, but it was probably best to not ruin the designer suits his assistant, Ruby, had so painstakingly picked out for him.

"Hey Winry," he greeted with a small smile. "How are you today?"

"Just fine," she replied, brushing off her clothes a bit. "I guess you've met Nurse Chan, then?"

"Unfortunately," the dark-haired nurse spat out. She glared at him again, but finally turned away and walked off into the hospital. Alphonse let out an almost relieved sigh.

"And I was just beginning to have fun..." he muttered sarcastically. What was it with him and his luck - or lack-there-of - with girls? Winry simply laughed good-naturedly, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Mei just likes to form her own opinions about things -- don't take it personally," she explained as she began to walk into the hospital, indicating Alphonse should follow. He let out a sigh and began walking.

"Well, it's kind of hard to not take it personally when she calls me a 'scumbag,'" he explained. He paused, then added, "I'm not a scumbag, am I?" Winry slowed slightly so that they were walking side-by-side in the hallway. She laughed again.

"I don't think you could be a scumbag if you were working at it," the doctor assured her friend. "But you came here for an 'inspection,' right? What exactly do you want to see?" She turned to face him, curious to hear his response. He wasn't exactly the money hoarding type who would stop donations if he felt they weren't running the facility correctly.

"I'm not really sure. I'm mostly tired of my so-called financial advisors hounding me on how I should cut back on donating, so I wanted to get out. Plus, I'm curious to see how your patients are doing. We rarely see each other anymore – it's nice to catch up somehow." Alphonse shrugged, almost as if ashamed of his answer. Winry gave him a grim smile.

"You didn't exactly choose the best time to visit," she admitted. "We don't have any shining success stories to tell right now."

"That's fine with me," Alphonse assured her, only vaguely realizing how morbid that may have sounded. "I'd like to see what really happens in the hospital anyways, not just the shining poster children the hospitals show in their pamphlets." Winry nodded, pausing in front of a door. She looked distressed for a moment, but finally decided to walk inside.

"This is Nina Tucker. She's a younger patient of mine, currently in a comatose state," the doctor explained, purposefully not going into much detail about what had happened to her patient. Alphonse walked around Winry to get a better glimpse of her. She had to have been seven or eight years old at the most, and had he not already been told that she were in a coma, he might have guessed that she were sleeping, and was simply in lack of her favorite blankie. He felt a small pang of sorrow for her. He'd wanted to see the dark side of the hospital - he just wasn't ready to see it.

Winry busied herself with checking on Nina's paperwork, making sure she received the proper medication, that the nurses were treating her well - anything to avoid looking at the girl she felt she had let down. Finally, Alphonse sighed, apparently realizing she wasn't going to say anything more about this patient.

The rest of the "tour" went on as planned. Alphonse made small talk with the few patients who were actually conscious, and Winry went through her rounds at the same time. However, as they reached the last room - Mr. Eaton's - she paused. In about three hours, he would go into surgery to have his limbs amputated. He was probably awake, and probably in a horrible mood.

"Actually," she started, "now that I think of it, he was just discharged today. So I think we're done." She smiled slightly, hoping he would believe her.

Alphonse wondered why she was lying, but didn't bother to bring it up.

* * *

"...and I would like an iced tea, please."

"And don't forget the garlic bread!"

As the waiter walked away, Winry raised an eyebrow at the surgeon sitting across from her. "What is it with you and garlic bread?" she asked him, a bemused smile crossing her face.

"Well," Roy started, wrapping his arm around his pregnant wife's shoulders. A confident smirk crossed his face. "Garlic bread gives me garlic breath, which the ladies love. Isn't that right, Riza?" Riza simply sighed, grabbing the glass of water that their waiter had just set on the table.

"Actually, I much prefer it when you have minty breath." She downed half of the glass in one gulp and set it on the table with a small "clink." "So unless you're impressing other women I'm unaware of, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Alfons and Winry simply laughed while Roy pretended to pout. Winry let out a contented sigh, taking a small sip of red wine. "I haven't had a night like this in such a long time. It always seems like work is getting in the way."

"Hospitals seem to work that way," Roy said with a sympathetic nod. "The moment you think you've finally secured a few minutes for yourself, BAM! It's time for emergancy surgery on a patient." Riza and Alfons tended to their respective drinks, finding it best to stay out of the conversation. Alfons had a steady, nine to five job, and Riza was out on maternity leave. They had no reason to complain at the moment.

"At least you surgeons don't need to worry about diagnoses," Winry said, recalling the night only a few weeks ago when she had been digging through textbooks for the cause of Mr. Eaton's illness. "It seems like my patients eat up my free time by making me worry about them, too."

"I spend my free time worrying about my patients, too," Roy added, as if not wanting to be out-pitied.

"Only whether or not they're going to sue you," Winry replied, raising an eyebrow. The surgeon pondered this thought for a moment, as if deciding whether he wanted to agree, or continue to complain.

"Well, it's still some of my precious time with my wife that they're wasting," he explained. Alfons and Winry laughed, where as Riza simply rolled her eyes.

"You're starting to sound like Hughes, now," Alfons said. "Next thing we know, you'll be e-mailing us pictures of your little girl en masse."

"Oh, come on. I couldn't be _that_ bad. Nothing can beat Hughes's unhealthy obsession with his own family," Roy said, taking out his cell phone as he recieved a text message from the man in question. "Speak of the devil..." he muttered, opening up the attachment.

Unsurprisingly, an adorable picture of the man's two-year-old daughter, riding a tricycle, flashed onto the screen. He sighed and put the phone away. Some things never changed.

"Why did you suddenly decide to have a night out like this, anyways?" Winry asked Roy, curious. He'd proposed the idea to her on the twelfth, after she had left Mr. Eaton's room. He'd been the one to perform the amputation, so she assumed the surgeon had been on his way to check up on his patient's condition. Instead, he had stopped her and requested that she and Alfons do a double date with him and Riza. She'd been surprised by the request, but accepted anyways.

He shrugged in response, but finally did seem willing to come up the answer.

"Well, you seemed kind of down about having that one patient practically crippled. I figured we should go out to take your mind off it. Of course, now that you've asked, it's going to be back on your mind, so there's not much point in doing this anymore. Should I just ask for the check?" He said this all with a straight face. Winry sighed.

"No, no. I'm fine. I just wish I had caught the infection earlier..."

There was a dead sort of silence that fell over the table, in which the waiter conveniently came by to take their orders. The mostly muttered their orders - nothing special. Roy was even able to just say "the usual," and be done with it. However, after a moment, Riza finally decided to speak up.

"Isn't your grandmother the one pioneering those new artificial limbs?" the pregnant woman asked. "You could ask him if he would like to take part in the trial." Winry didn't answer for a moment, surprised she had never made the connection before.

"Well," she said finally, "he's apparently homeless and has no living relatives. He'd need somebody to take him in..."

"We have an extra bedroom," Alfons reminded her. Winry turned quickly to look at him, mildly shocked.

"And you wouldn't mind him staying there...? He'd probably have to have someone to watch over him for a while, in case there are complications..." Her boyfriend simply smiled.

"Anything to give you peace of mind."

* * *

"So I hear you're going to be discharged today..." Winry said, staring at the crippled young man lying in front of her. He glanced at her sourly.

"Figures. As soon as I'm no longer about to die, you send me out to die on the streets. I'd much rather just waste away here where I actually have a bed. Death on a silver platter is better than death on cold, hard concrete," he spat out in a bitter tone. Winry bit her lip. She was having second thoughts on possibly bringing him into her home. She hoped that most of his bitterness was because of the disease, but she imagined that he was never going to have an entirely pleasant personality.

Still, she couldn't live with herself if she booted him out onto the street as a cripple. She had to do this.

"You don't need to go onto the streets, you know..." she muttered, barely loud enough for him to make out the words. He rolled his eyes.

"And where am I supposed to go?" he asked her. "To the homeless shelter? The land of hopes and dreams? I can't _do_ anything if I only have one arm, which is being used to hold the crutch to make up for the missing leg. I can't get a job, can't get paid. The only thing I can get is pity, which I sure as hell don't need."

"Well, there's work being done to replace limbs," Winry said suddenly. "It's called automail. It isn't perfected yet, but we can put you through the preliminary surgery for free and maybe get you walking and writing again, if you'll agree to the trial."

"So I'd basically be a guinea pig?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded. It wasn't the most flattering of terms, but it was true. She paused, waiting for him to decline, but he continued to look at her expectantly. She took that as a sign to continue.

"You would be able to live at my apartment for a little bit while you're recovering from the surgery," she offered. "And my grandmother is behind developing this, so I'm sure I could get you into the trial without much trouble. My boyfriend would be able to watch after you and make sure nothing went wrong when I'm at work, and I would be able to handle most of the medical complications. We have nice sheets!"

_"Too much info! Too much info!" _her mind screamed. She felt her face heating up. He would probably decline, and she would just feel like an idiot for even suggesting it. He looked at her intently with his piercing, amber eyes.

Finally, he spoke.

"Being a guinea pig is better than dying on a silver platter."

* * *

A/N:

OK. I was better this month. I got the draft in time for some betaing. x3 So shout out to my lovely betas, iAlkemy and CeruleanSan! Go worship the ground they stand on or something. So this chapter includes a few more important things. But most importantly, it had to contain these phrases:

**1. **Bracelet  
**2.** Fuzzy bunny slippers  
**3.** Minty breath  
**4.** Blankie  
**5. **Garlic Bread  
**6.** _"And I'm a hula dancer, now what do you have to say?"  
**7.** "I put myself in a sticky situation and can't get out!"  
**8.** "Too much info! Too much info!"  
**9.** "And I was just beginning to have fun..."  
**10. **"Could you move away a little bit? Just a little bit? Perfect. Thanks."_

Can you find them?

Also, I apologize for mistakes in medical terminology and what-not. I'm getting most of this stuff from House and Scrubs - I do not cliam to be an expert in the medical field. I blatantly made up Ed's disease, too. No worries about contracting it.

Well, until next month...

Enjoy!


	4. November

Disclaimer  
I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or related characters. No suing, please.

**Death on a Silver Platter  
**Written by - Stripe

Chapter 4 - November

* * *

Edward didn't even know when he had been brought into Dr. Rockbell's apartment. The last thing he remembered was being put under for the surgery, and then the next thing he knew, he was swimming in and out of consciousness, laying on a couch with his new arms and limbs propped up and bandages wrapped around the "ports." It wasn't a particularly wonderful experience; his entire body was sore, not just his arm and leg. He had a pounding migraine which made it feel as though he had been whacked over the head with a shovel, and he wasn't sure he would be able to keep anything down if he tried to eat.

Put simply, he was miserable.

But, at the very least, he could twitch the fingers in his new "arm." So the surgery _had _been mildly successful. He simply wasn't sure if it was worth the pain yet.

"How are you feeling?" Edward jumped slightly at the voice, having been unaware there was anybody else in the room. He squinted up at the direction it had come from to find that, unsurprisingly, it was Dr. Rockbell. He groaned.

"I've been better."

She let out a sigh, brushing back a stray strand of hair. "A bit more detail would be nice," she told him, kneeling down to get a better look at his leg. "Where does it hurt? Is it just pain, or do you have other symptoms as well? Nausea? Insomnia? Synesthesia? Halitosis?"

Edward gave her a look. "Did you swallow an Oxford Dictionary or something?" he asked in a biting tone. Dr. Rockbell rolled her eyes.

"It comes with the profession," she explained, and it was obvious she was trying to hold her temper around him. "Just please give me some details about how you're feeling."

Edward sighed. "Want that list in alphabetical order?" he asked. However, with one glance at the look Dr. Rockbell was giving him, he decided it was likely best to comply. "OK, the place where the metal connects-"

"The port," Dr. Rockbell reminded him.

"Right, the ports. The skin around the ports is very sore, but there's also a sort of dull pain throughout my entire body." The doctor nodded at this information, mentally recording it. She nodded for him to continue. "I also have a head-splitting headache, and I'm feeling a little nauseous." She nodded again.

"Anything else?"

"I could use some extra cushions. Your couch is really uncomfortable."

Winry rolled her eyes. At least his sense of humor was still intact. "Alright. I'm going to look at the limbs now. If you could please do as I say. It is going to be a bit painful, so bear with me, but if it comes to be too much, just tell me." He nodded, and she began the examination. She started with the leg – it was the simpler of the two limbs, and was the most likely to succeed.

"Can you bend your knee?" she asked, gingerly touching the skin near the port. He flinched, but still made an attempt. The area was swollen, so he could barely even move it ten degrees, but it was movement. It was good for the time being – she had full confidence that it would eventually improve. "Can you twist your ankle?"

"It isn't really my ankle, is it?" Mr. Eaton asked bitterly. However, he did slowly turn, with visible effort, the metallic ankle. It wasn't exactly a twist, but he did manage to move the ankle of his own will. Winry felt her heart swell with pride. This was mostly her grandmother's invention, but she had done her fair share of study on the connection to the tissue and the surgery itself. This was her success as well.

"Can you move the toes?"

This was not much of a success. He put forth visible effort to move the toes, but there was no sign of them actually obeying his will. Not even so much as a twitch. Winry let out a sigh. Toe movement wasn't integral to walking or living in general, but it would be a nice thing to have at least.

The examination then moved on to the arm, which was even less successful than the leg. Still, it was progress.

With some more time, Winry told herself, the limbs would work brilliantly.

* * *

Steadily, Edward found his time at Dr. Rockbell's house becoming more bearable. The pain was lessening, and his nausea was all but gone. His headache was still present, but it was more of a background affair than the main attraction.

Perhaps the most unbearable thing was that there always seemed to be somebody at the house. Dr. Rockbell, or Winry, as she preferred to be called, was there at seemingly random intervals. Sometimes she would be there in the middle of the day, sometimes only at night, and sometimes not there at all. When Winry wasn't there, sometimes her grandmother would take over for her.

Pinako Rockbell was a mildly terrifying woman, especially considering her size. She had been the one to oversee the automail research in the first place, as well as the one to conduct his surgery. She still visited to see how his limbs were working, and would occasionally perform maintenence on them. However, usually, she would just put him through a serious of rigorous tests which strained his body and the metallic limbs themselves. She wouldn't leave him be until he made some sort of progress in moving his new limbs.

It was painful, but because of her, Edward found that he was nearly able to stand on his own two feet again.

And when neither of them was available, Winry's boyfriend was usually there. He was the least painful of the three, but he was also the nosiest. It seemed that a lack of being able to medically examine Ed prompted him into a mental examination. He would talk about anything – Ed's past, his family, his home, his occupation.

This was a very bad thing.

Edward lied, of course. He said his parents were dead, which was true, and that he was an only child, which was not. He claimed he had dropped out of high school and had become an alcoholic – also a lie. He had never stepped foot in a high school or a liquor store. This made lying a bit more difficult. Describing the purchase of a beer barrel required more imagination than one might have expected.

As far as Alfons knew, Ed had never held a steady job or owned anything nice. As far as Alfons knew, Ed was a homeless slug on the street.

Then again, as far as Alfons knew, Edwin Eaton was a real person, and Edward Elric had disappeared a long time ago.

The most difficult part of this charade was remembering who Edwin Eaton was supposed to be.

Edward sat up on the couch, flipping through the channels on Winry's hi-def television. Pinako had left about ten minutes ago – at the moment, there was really nothing better to do. He anticipated that either Alfons or Winry would soon enter the apartment. He was like a little kid; the longest they would permit him to be by himself was approximately thirty minutes.

This happened to be the length of an episode of Scrubs.

Soon enough, however, Edward's TV time was interrupted by Alfons walking in the door. "I'm home!" he declared, though there wasn't much need. The living room was hardly ten yards away from the front door. It was pretty clear to Edward whenever someone came home. He rolled his eyes and pretended not to notice.

Alfons set his tennis racket down by the front door and strode over to the couch, plopping himself down next to Ed. He stared at the screen for a moment. It was an ad – a rather lame one at that – with a family gathered around a table and the kids begging for gifts. The father, with a cheesy, blinding smile then stated "Who do you think I am, Santa Claus?" The family laughed and the commercial ended with the statement of the product name. He glanced to Ed, who was staring at it blankly. He obviously wasn't paying attention.

"So how was your day?" Alfons asked, trying to be friendly. Edward had really been surprisingly unobtrusive on their life in general. The only part of the house that he had claimed was the couch – he had been uncomfortable having an entire bedroom to himself – and he didn't move from there. They needed to prepare extra food for him, and Winry needed to help him to the bathroom occasionally, but otherwise, he took care of himself. He was just another person to talk to, not a burden.

Ed shrugged at the question, left shoulder only. Alfons couldn't blame him. "It wasn't too bad," he said, though he still sounded rather uninterested. "The devil woman came again." He glanced to the front door, as if expecting Pinako to suddenly appear. However, Ed's eyes quickly glanced down to the tennis racket still leaning against the wall. "You play tennis?" he asked. He sounded rather uninterested – more like he was asking because he felt obligated to. Alfons disregarded this. At least he was attempting to be sociable.

"In my free time. I have a high school buddy. We have an ongoing contest – he's currently beating me by ten games."

"High school buddy?" Ed questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Alphonse Elric, do you know him? We both played in school, so we started playing each other then," Alfons explained. He saw a flicker of something in Edwin's eyes.

"Alphonse?" he repeated, taking a pause to consider it. "I've never heard of him before." Alfons raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Alphonse Elric? The head of Elric Corporations? You've never heard of him?"

Ed shook his head. "Nope." Alfons examined his expression closely, suspiciously. It was difficult not to have heard of Alphonse Elric. He had inherited his father's company at the age of nineteen, yet had handled it splendidly given his age. He had paid attention to his advisors, learned from any past mistakes. He often gave money to charities and hospitals. He was something of a celebrity. Not to mention that Al had been the one to introduce Winry to him.

Unless Edwin Eaton had lived in a box for the past ten years, it was highly improbable he'd never heard of Alphonse Elric.

And with the way he had reacted, it was far more probable that he was lying. The only question was why.

* * *

Winry poked at her food as she sat in the hospital cafeteria, watching the snowflakes descend outside. It was the first snow of the season – she always dreaded it. Cold weather meant weakened immune systems and icy roads. Neither were particularly pleasant things for a doctor to face.

Of course, it did signal the beginning of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not that this made her job much easier. People travelling meant more injuries, more spread diseases. If she could somehow get the holidays off, it would be fine.

If she couldn't, then she would have to deal with hell.

Winry pondered this for a moment more, taking one more bite of her salad, before Mei plopped herself down in the seat adjacent.

"So how's Mr. Eaton doing?" she asked, immediately beginning to devour the chicken sandwich she had bought. Winry shrugged.

"Not too bad. Granny's really working him hard – I think he'll be mobile by Thanksgiving."

Mei nodded and pondered this for a moment. "What are your plans for Thanksgiving this year? My family's celebrating with the other half this year – I've got nothing to do." Winry smiled at Mei's self-invitation.

"We were going to have a low-key dinner with a few friends over at the Hughes's. You're welcome to come if you want," she said. It didn't escape Winry that there might be a few mild issues with this plan. Roy and Riza would be there, of course, as would Maes, Gracia and their daughter. They all knew Mei well and would be happy to have her – that wasn't the problem.

Alphonse Elric would be there.

Mei still held a low opinion of the man. Winry had tried to change it and prove to her otherwise that Al really wasn't that horrible, but the nurse had her mind made up already, and there was no changing it.

Still, what Mei didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Maybe the other people there would be a buffer of some sort. She could only hope.

"What are you going to do with Mr. Eaton for Thanksgiving?" Mei asked, examining the remaining half of her chicken sandwich. "Are you going to let him stay by himself?"

Winry pondered this for a moment. Bringing a patient with her to Thanksgiving dinner would perhaps make things a bit awkward, but on the other hand, leaving him by himself, with no family to speak of, seemed almost crueler.

"I'm going to check with Maes.

* * *

"Try and behave yourself, alright?" Winry asked, looking back at Ed as they pulled up to the front of the Hughes's. Ed rolled his eyes.

"What are you expecting me to do?" he asked, already apparently in a sour mood. "Throw the turkey on the ground and stomp on top of it?"

"Something like that, yes. So don't get any funny ideas."

Alfons chuckled nervously as he stepped out of the car. He wasn't entirely sure how good of an idea it was to bring Mr. Eaton to Thanksgiving dinner with them. He was able to walk now, so he wouldn't be too much of a burden in that sense – it was more his general attitude which worried Alfons.

Not to mention that his attitude would very likely clash with those of the other guests.

Alfons opened the door so that Ed would have an easier time getting out, and Winry walked past, holding a bowl of some sort of unrecognizable food. They were expected to bring something to the dinner, of course, and Alfons had done his part by making a copious amount of mashed potatoes. But Winry simply wasn't content with bringing one thing – she had insisted on making something of her own.

The only thing vaguely recognizable to Alfons was the blood orange sauce she had used. He wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to be covering, however.

After grabbing his own offering of food, Alfons followed Winry up to the front door. He kept an eye on Ed to insure that the blonde made it up the steps alright. He didn't seem to have too much trouble, though he certainly favored his metallic leg. When he turned back to the front, Gracia had already opened the door for them.

"It's nice to see you," she said with a pleasant smile. "And the food looks wonderful, too. Please come in." At this, she stepped aside and allowed the three inside her home.

Roy and Riza had already shown up, as had Mei. They were currently sitting around the living room with Maes, who was looking through the liquor cabinet.

"I really need to clear out some of this wine," he complained, scratching his head as he examined some of the bottles.

"Whatever you do, don't throw out the red one." Roy gave this warning with a smile, already holding a glass of wine in hand himself. His wife gave him a look. She wasn't drinking, of course – though she wasn't much of a drinker beforehand, the baby insured that she wouldn't touch alcohol unless her life depended on it.

Maes examined the cabinet again. "Which 'red one'? I have a lot of red wine, you know."

"The one I just brought you, of course!" Roy declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His wine sloshed in the glass, but none luckily escaped.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Roy," Maes assured him with a grin. "Now, would anybody like some? I've got red and white – no pink wine, sorry, that's just disgusting." He addressed this comment to the new arrivals, turning to grin at them as well. "And the hard liquor is off limits tonight. I don't want you lot to set a bad example for my precious Elicia." There was a collective rolling of eyes, but no one mentioned anything.

"What whites do you have?" Winry asked, walking into the living room herself to get a better look. Alfons didn't respond – he wasn't exceptionally fond of alcohol himself. He would maybe have a glass with dinner, but someone had to be the designated driver.

Edward also opted out of a glass of alcohol. He wasn't exactly used to wine. He'd had a beer or two on occasion, but wine wasn't something he'd ever been granted the chance of having. Plus, it wouldn't look good for a supposed alcoholic to be drinking.

So instead, he plopped himself down onto an arm chair, happy to stay off of his feet. He placed his right arm on the arm rest – best to keep it supported so not to strain the shoulder, as Winry put it.

He glanced around at the other people in the house. He recognized one to be a nurse who had come by to take care of him a few times. A miniscule dark-haired girl. He was mildly surprised she was of drinking age, but he took it that the glass of wine in her hand signified she was at least twenty-one.

He recognized one of the men, too, though not as well. Edward recalled seeing him once or twice at the hospital, though he couldn't place a name or occupation to him. The other three were unfamiliar to him.

Winry and Alfons stood, making small talk with the other guests. Edward made mental notes about the other guests; names, occupations, character quirks. Maes Hughes, the host, was a lawyer who frequently defended the hospital. He was married to Gracia, a housewife, and fawned over his daughter, Elicia, who was apparently taking a nap before dinner.

Then there was Roy Mustang. Ed learned that he was a surgeon and was also the one who had preformed the amputation – he disliked the man already. He was smug and over-confident, and seemed to have been there for a while already. Riza was his wife and currently pregnant with their first child. She used to work at the hospital but left due to the pregnancy. He still wasn't entirely sure of her occupation.

Mei was the nurse. She was sour about not being invited for her own family's Thanksgiving – apparently her half-siblings were the ones who got the dinner this year. She was single and bemoaned the fact constantly, and seemed to obsess over fairytale romances. She was loud and a little annoying, but Ed supposed that there were creatures worse than she.

Edward had also gathered that they were waiting on somebody else, though he hadn't been able to catch the name yet. Had it not been for his conversation with Alfons about a week ago, he wouldn't have worried much about it. The chances that any of them knew any of his so-called "friends" were slim to none, and he was happy to keep it this way. However, the name "Alphonse Elric" continued to reverberate throughout his head - he couldn't rid himself of that nagging feeling.

The other guests continued talking, and for the most part, Edward was ignored. Every so often, Winry would address a comment towards him in order to try and involve him in socializing, but these efforts failed for the most part. It seemed to Ed as if there would be no end to the talking for a moment – that they would all be stuck chattering away, waiting for that last guest to show up for eternity. However, an end was finally in sight.

"Sorry I'm late! And I assume it's alright if I let myself in?"

At this voice, two people visibly flinched. The first was Mei, whose expression suddenly turned from cheerful to pure hatred. She glared at the man who had just entered, nearly crushing her wine glass in the process. Winry tried to calm her; this was partly her fault anyways.

The second flincher was Ed, who quickly averted his gaze as if to hide his face. Alfons didn't let this fact escape him - he was certain the two men knew each other now. He just needed to figure out how.

Alphonse Elric walked into the living room, oblivious to the attention he had received upon entering. "Where do you want the pumpkin pie?" he asked, holding up the food item in question.

"Oh, just set it on the table," Gracia said with a small smile. "You can go ahead and put it wherever there's room."

From there, everybody slowly filed into the dining room. Edward found himself forced to sit between Winry and Mei, which he wasn't entirely sure was such a grand idea. From what he'd seen of Mei, she was a bit of a spazz, and Winry would probably only talk to him in order to check on his automail. It was sensible, of course, but it was a bit annoying that his health seemed to be all she was concerned with.

On the bright side, however, he was almost as far away from Alphonse Elric as it was possible to be. Al hadn't seemed to recognize him when walking in, which was a relief. But Ed was fairly certain that had they been sitting across from one another, he would eventually figure it out. It was best that he remained unaware.

The Hughes' daughter, Elicia, sat across from Ed, her parents on either side of her. She had recently been awoken from a nap, and still seemed a bit out of it for the dinner, but she was immediately enraptured by his automail. He let her take a look at his right hand as he ate with his left; his right hand still didn't have quite the minute motor skills to eat without bending the utensils yet. She played with the fingers, bending and twisting them and trying to catch the light successfully on various objects.

Edward found the food to be delicious. The turkey was wonderful, and the mashed potatos were delectable. The only thing he didn't dare touch was whatever Winry had brought - not even the cook herself would try it. However, perhaps his favorite thing was the pumpkin pie. He recognized the recipe, of course; it had been his mother's. But he hadn't had a pie baked this way in almost eighteen years. This made it taste even better.

When the gorging was coming to an end, Winry glanced over at Ed, swallowing one last bite of mashed potato. "Do you want to help us decorate the hospital in a couple of days, Ed?" she asked. "I think it would be good for helping you adapt to your automail." He shrugged with his left shoulder.

"Sounds fine to me."

* * *

"Don't put the reindeer there!!"

Edward was already beginning to regret his decision. He obviously did not have the correct sort of interior decorating skills that suited Winry's needs. If he tried to place the reindeer to the left, she wanted it on the right. If the Santa poster went on the window, it was supposed to be on the door. It was beginning to become unbearable. Winry sighed.

"You know what... Why don't you work on decorating the outside with Mei? I'm sure she could use some help..." she said, glancing around the lobby of the hospital. "I can take over from here." Edward shrugged and strolled outside.

It had been about a month now since his surgery, and his leg, at least, was working wonderfully. He couldn't run very well yet, but his walking was nearly perfect. The port didn't hurt much anymore - only if he overworked himself. His arm was at least movable. He could punch somebody if he needed to.

Outside, Mei was struggling with a large, plastic figure of Santa Claus, who held up an arm to cheerily greet all of the incoming patients to the hospital. It didn't quite fit the overall mood of a hospital, but Ed felt no reason to question it. He didn't work here.

Edward walked over to help Mei right the thing, which was easily taller than both of them. However, when he placed his human arm on Santa's chest to tip him over, his non-human arm somehow ended ramming into the waving arm of the Santa.

"Oh my god, you've knocked his arm off!"

It seemed Santa was not quite as sturdy as one might expect. Edward grumbled. There was a certain blonde doctor inside who would definitely chew him out for this later.

"I don't suppose you have any super glue, do you?" he asked, bending down the pick up the arm off the ground. It was hollow inside - that at least explained why it was so easy to destroy.

"We can fix that later, just help me put this thing up!" Mei screeched at him, beginning to teeter backwards due to the sheer size of the Santa.

"Fine, just stop complaining you bean-sized nurse," Edward said, rolling his eyes. He walked behind the giant Santa in order to get a better angle on pushing it right, this time careful to make sure he didn't put too much force behind it.

"Who are you calling bean-sized?" Mei snapped, pausing in her Santa-righting efforts to glare at him. "You're pretty short for a man your age, you know!"

"Hey, I'm average height!" Edward insisted, easily making up for Mei's lack of pushing on his own. Just as he was about to elaborate on this point, however, his eye caught an all too familiar face walking towards the hospital. In a panic, he dived into the bushes, simply hoping he hadn't been seen.

Unfortunately for Mei, this left the giant Santa absolutely no support, and it came toppling down on top of her, pinning her to the snow-covered ground. She let out a short scream of surprise, which drew the attention of the person Ed had hidden from. The mystery man jogged over, eager to help.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Mei thought she recognized the voice, but the sun was in her eyes and she couldn't make out his face clearly.

"I think I dislocated my hip..." she groaned out, squinting up at him. She could make out a halo of golden hair, just as she expected of her prince charming.

"Here, let me help you up." The mystery man put forth a hand for Mei to grab, then pulled her up out of the snow and out from under the Santa Claus. Mei clutched her side and leaned against the wall of the hospital - she'd have to get this seen about later. However, for the time being, she was more concerned with finding out who her savior was.

The man turned from righting the Santa Claus with very little trouble and Mei gasped.

In an instant, her feelings for Alphonse Elric shifted from pure, unadultered hatred to intense, fairytale-esque love.

* * *

A/N:

There wasn't a chapter last month because of NaNoWriMo. The people running the contest were taking part, so there weren't any phrases. I didn't give up or lose or anything - just didn't have the phrases so I couldn't start. So now the chapters are a month behind. Meaning they'll be celebrating Christmas next chapter!

But I slacked off on writing until about the fifteenth of December. So this chapter is kind of rushed, sorry. I might come back and edit it later after the competition, to appease myself if nothing else. No beta here, again, apart from a few major issues pointed out to me by CeruleanSan and Kiza. But here are this month's phrases:

**1.** Snowflakes  
**2.** Beer barrel  
**3.** Shovel  
**4.** Oxford Dictionary  
**5.** Blood orange  
**6.** _"Don't put the reindeer there!!"_  
**7.** _"Oh my god, you've knocked his arm off!"_  
**8.** _"Who do you think I am, Santa Claus?"_  
**9.** _"I think I dislocated my hip..."_  
**10.** _"Whatever you do, don't throw out the red one."_

Can you find them?

And yes, the deal between Al and Ed _will_ eventually be explained, as well as why Ed is "homeless." So just bear with me and try to understand that this is just my attempt at subtle suspense.

Well, until next month...

Enjoy!


End file.
